


Give Me A Chance (Prinxiety AU)

by One_Lonely_Emo



Category: Sanders Sides, Thomas Sanders
Genre: Abusive Deceit (sorry), Angst, Fluff, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, Other, Past Domestic Abuse, Pining, Rejection, Slow Burn, Suicide Attempt, cursing, hospital mention, mentions of self harm, one sided pining, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-07 22:50:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 13,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20983700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/One_Lonely_Emo/pseuds/One_Lonely_Emo
Summary: "Just give me a chance!" I cried as he turned on his heel, walking out of my shop. He looked sad. Like something was ending."No can do Lo." He said with a sad crack in his voice. "Have a nice night." He turned, blinking again. "I'm sorry."--Roman works nights at a new 24/7 coffee shop that management decided to put in, in the small town that they live in. Virgil is a regular, who just got out of an abusive relationship, who's trying to make it on his own and not doing his best. After a while, Roman realizes that he's falling for him. But he has a boyfriend.But he's so cute!But he can't.Maybe with a chance.





	1. Chapter 1

(Roman’s POV)   
  
I sighed, letting my gaze fall to the off-grey wood floor. It creaked under my feet as I shifted my weight to lean on the counter in front of me. I took a glance down at my watch, my hair falling in my face as I checked the time. 10:28 P.M. He should be coming in now. Usually we just got tired kids writing term papers or fanfiction at this time at night, but he was different. 

See there was this guy. He came in every night at 10:30. P.M. Every damn night, He ordered the same thing, sat in the same seat, in the same glass. Honestly it was just a nice part of my long shift that I found comfort in. It was the only stable, consistent time of my night really. He wore only black, with eyebags deeper than the grand canyon. I couldn’t tell you his name at that time, I was honestly self centered, zoning out as I wrote a jumble of letters on a slip of paper in that small time of normality. I let myself drift off for a few more moments, until I heard the ring of the bell, a sure sign that that he had come in. It was unusual for someone to come in so late at night, but it's not like I could question anything at all, I was the one working nights at a goddamn 24/7 coffee shop, (Something management was trying, don’t ask me, and hey, money was money-) Suppose neither of us could judge. I looked down, 10:35. Weird. He had been coming in later than usual lately, seemed to be more and more tired, but I guess he was spending his nights drinking coffee. Still he looked like he was getting less and less sleep. But I never said anything. I convinced myself that it wasn’t my problem, that he was just a stranger and that I shouldn’t have to concern myself with customers business. Looking back at it I wish I would have said something earlier, but hindsight is 20/20. That night however, I suppose my big heart and an even bigger mouth got the best of me. He sat down, just setting his head on the counter, covering his head with his forearms. I looked over, raising an eyebrow. 

“Usual?” I asked, almost timidly. He simply nodded. I reached behind me, grabbing the same cup he used every time, its chipped porcelain shining at me. It’s not like he specifically asked for it, I just did. More of a ritual than anything. I gave him the usual, straight black coffee, and set it down in front of him. He flicked his gaze up at me for a moment, grumbling a quiet “ _ thanks. _ ” I nodded, telling him that it was no problem, the usual speech. Once I finish speaking, it was completely silent. Mind numbingly silent. Nothing but crickets, like a bad sitcom. Annoying silence that dug its nails into the back of your mind when you want to say something.  ** _Need_ ** to say something. I inhaled slowly, 

“Hey, are- you alright?” I asked gently, worry seeping into my voice. He took a sip, almost recoiling at the taste that I knew all too well to be bitter. He scoffed. 

“Why would you need to know, or care.” He paused, mouth open for a moment. His voice stayed calm, but suddenly jumped to a more anxious side when he spoke again. “And what gives you any indication that I’m not.” I shrugged, trying to maintain my casual demeanor as I tapped my watch.

“Just checking in.” I said. “And, you’ve been coming later, no offense but you look a little worse, more tired, and you just about broke down at my counter.” I explained further. He raised an eyebrow, a tiny sullen smirk tugging at the edge of his grimace. 

“You got me.” He muttered quietly, looking almost confused as how I had come to that. How I read him like that. But it was obvious. To me at least. Or maybe I was just looking at him for too long. “No. Not really. I’m not okay. But you’re just a stranger.” He said, placing money as he left his half-drank coffee on the counter, walking out. His words echoed in my mind.  _ Just a stranger. _ At that moment I vowed to myself that I would try to not be just a stranger. Hell If I saw him every night I might as well be a friend. Right? 

  
Not just a stranger. 

  
He’d have to give me at least a small chance. 

  
Right? 


	2. Chapter 2

(Roman’s POV) 

I let out a quiet breath that I didn’t know I was holding when I heard the door shut behind him. I checked my watch once again, almost instinctively. 11:00 on the dot. He really was one for schedules right. I had an hour to waste until my shift was over. I looked around, quietly noting the mess of cups gone unattended that night. Another sigh, it would pass the time I supposed. A sink full of scaldingly hot soapy water later, I realized just how many dishes there was. Damn. As I picked up a cup, I just kinda re- thought the night before me. Maybe I should have kept my mouth shut, Did I really make a difference? If I didn't, I think that I just put more stress on him honestly. Only time would tell. 

By the time I would have gotten home, the dog would be asleep, Logan would be at work already. I would have about 6 hours to eat and get out of the coffee stained clothes that I was inhabiting, than I had classes. For god knows how long. Didn’t really think in time anymore, more bells and beeps. Than I had 4 hours to talk with Logan, my boyfriend, I usually put about 2 hours into sleeping. 2 hours into talking. That’s how it was. Every day. Little sleep, lots of stress. Honestly, I had no idea how I did it. For some people they have to be relaxed, or they break after a while. I never broke. I grew up under pressure, I liked under pressure. It was just how I worked, how I lived. 

A small, almost inaudible beep from my watched pulled me out of my trance like state of cleaning and thinking. It was midnight. I could finally get to bed. Walking to the storeroom, I untied my coffee splattered apron, hanging it on a long forgotten hook in the corner of the room. Homebound. Finally. Here I come. 

\--

(Virgil’s POV) 

Staring. Everyone was staring at me. Was it really that obvious? Could everyone see through me? Maybe he was right. I probably did look like shit. I probably looked like my world was falling down around me, and it was. Honest. I really had nothing left. I got paranoid and kept looking behind me when there was absolutely nothing anywhere. And yet I looked. For some god-forsaken reason I looked. Expecting to see him, expecting to feel the blows on my back, feel the cold tile on my face after. It’s why I didn’t sleep. I didn’t want to live through that again. It’s bad enough that I lived it for 2 fucking years of my life. So I pumped myself up on caffeine, knowing alertness would starve off the nightmares, the flashbacks. Of course sooner or later I would pass out, falling simply unconscious. Dreamless. Restful.

I shoved my hands into my pockets, trying to fight back the november cold that was biting at me as I walked, though the embarrassment and anger building in my cheeks and my chest were doing a pretty damn great job. Before I got away from him, I would come into that same coffee shop every night, because night was usually when he was worse, more angry. Same cup. Same time, Same seat, Same place. Same consequence from Dee. It was always my fault. I left. I wasn’t good enough. Never good enough. Yet somehow, now I was deteriorating on the outside, just as much as I was on the inside. If what he said was any indication whatsoever. I made my way into my apartment, sitting down on the secondhand couch, my gaze looking over the meager furnishings that I had. Rubbing my eyes, sleep crept in again, tugging the lids of my eyes down, dulling the edges of my mind into complacency. Sedation, almost. When I went back to the coffee shop tomorrow, he would be there. Would he try to “help” me like so many others have? Maybe some more coffee would starve off the inevitable loss of consciousness just a little bit longer. A few more days. A few more hours. A few more minutes. A few more seconds. Maybe. Just maybe.


	3. Chapter 3

(Roman’s POV) 

From that day on, every time that that man came in, I tried to talk to him. About his life, the weather. Sports- (I also learned that he was- not a sports person) and even learned his name. Virgil. He rarely spoke but when he did, he got a sparkle in his eye, and I listened closely, picking up on every word and every inflection. I learned that he lives alone, that he just went through a shitty breakup, all that- good stuff. So, I tried to share a little bit about myself, told him my name’s Roman, that I live with my boyfriend and dog, (but that I liked the dog better) and just tried to make him smile every night. It became a routine. Usual seat, usual drink, usual time, usual conversation, at least one smile. It made me look forward to his part of my night even more. It was amazing. Every night I had smiles, laughter, good coffee, good company. I just kind of hoped that I gave him a stable place. I just wanted to be his friend. 

Over the months, however, I found myself asking why. Why did I do this. I didn’t pity him, maybe a slight bit in the beginning, but sure as hell not right now. He was funny, he had gone through a lot, and was somehow still going. He was attractive, and my heart went wild when I heard the bell and saw him come into the shop. My stomach twisted when he smiled. You could probably see it in my eyes. Dumbfounded by him in general. Honestly I couldn't remember the last time I had felt like that, except with- with Logan. Oh no. When he walked into class that year ago, I felt like that. Oh no. Oh no oh no. I liked him. I fucking liked him. On no no no no no no no. And of course I realized this at just the worst time. With Virgil right in front of me, that heart melting smile on his face. I had a smile on my face as well, but it melted away as my heart dropped when I had the realization. He was cute. Always knew that. People were attractive. Sure I was in a relationship, but I wasn’t blind. But “Just attractive” people don't make your heart drop like that man did to me. He noticed the happiness slide off my face, his expression contorting as well. 

“Yo Ro-” He said fondly, a trace of confusion sprinkled in his voice. “You alright?” he asked almost timidly. Scared. I shouldn’t have been scaring him, right? How could I have scared him. I looked over, shaking my head as a clearly fake smile crept across my face, slowly, more seeping across my face than anything. 

“Hm?” I said, pretending that I hadn’t heard a word he said. He repeated himself in a slightly slower tone, condescending, babying. I shook my head, turning my back to him slightly. I couldn’t look at him. 

I liked him.

I liked him. 

Me, Roman fucking Sanders. Liked him. But I couldn’t. I had a boyfriend. I was committed. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. 

“I’m alright my- my guy-” I said, trying all too hard to sound casual and failing miserably. I heard a scoff. 

“Did you just call me your guy.” He noted quietly. I chuckled, nodding as I held my head in my hands, resting my elbows on the counter, back facing him. 

“I- I think I did?” I asked, more questioning than a pure statement. He chuckled, sending sparks straight through me, migrating to my stomach, making my cheeks heat up because fuck I liked him and why was I feeling like this oh god oh no. He noticed this, calling me some sort of red fruit, cherry or tomato or apple, something. I wasn’t listening. How could I listen to him, because if I listened it would make me think about it. He was sitting right there, laugh alarming me, smile chilling me right to the bone, smell intoxicating. 

“Roman, you’re acting like I grew a tail. Did I grow a tail?” He asked, completely serious sounding, without an ounce of sarcasm in his voice. My head shook, my body shaking along with it. Both of them obviously for different reasons. 

“No, Virge, you didn’t grow a tail. I promise.” I said softly, like I was trying to calm him down. As if he really needed to be reassured, but of course he didn't 

“Then why do you seem to think I did.” He asked.

My watch beeped. 

“I don’t think you did. I hope- I’m not asking about it-” I said with a soft chuckle. “I gotta go.” I said more eager to end the conversation than ever before. This was supposed to be the favorite part of my night. He started to shake a bit, visibly. He nodded, leaving the cup and his usual amount, maybe a larger tip I wasn’t too sure, as he turned on his heel. The bell jingled behind him. I quickly hung up my apron, putting my hand on the doorknob, but hesitating. Would Logan think I was being suspicious? He always thought I was. But me acting like this would probably end in some sort of fight. Oh lord I was screwed. I walked home, mind full of nothing but static and panic. Screwed. I was screwed- so fucking screwed. When I got back to my apartment I just stood there, staring at the dark wood door and I just stood. Feet refusing to move, hands and arms refusing to grip the handle before me because I was praying for my life that he was gone or asleep and for the first time- 

I was afraid. 

Afraid of the man I’ve known and loved for so fucking long. 

I felt sick. Maybe I needed to lie down. Lay down and sleep forever if I was lucky. Maybe I just wouldn’t wake up. Or- maybe I wouldn’t have to face him, wouldn’t have to explain that “Hey hon! I got the hots for a cute guy at the coffee shop I work at, you cool with that?” 

I wouldn’t do that. 

I couldn’t do that to him- rather. 

I was screwed. 

I didn’t have a chance.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (*slight Trigger Warning here-*)

(Roman’s POV)

Yet, I gripped the handle, turned it, and walked in. And he was standing in the living room, fixing his tie in the mirror that hung in the hallway, it’s old bronze frame fading. My heart dropped again. He could see it couldn’t he. I probably had “I want Virgil’s ass” plastered across my forehead didn’t I. Logan turned, flashing me a toothy smile, though it faded and he gave me a curt nod when he saw the look on my face. 

“How are you darling.” He said dreamily, or as dreamily as Logan got, which was just a lukewarm emotion in comparison with his usual cold look and tone of voice. He shrugged, my gaze flicking from one side of the apartment to the other, refusing to meet his gaze. 

“I’m okay- just not feeling my best Lo.” I said, a blatant lie. 

“You sure about that?” He asked, taking another step toward me. 

“It’s fucking 12:30 at night. I’m tired. I had a long day, I feel like shit. Give me a break.” I said,my voice de-crescendoing into a softer, less angry voice. Almost scared. He cleared his throat, pursing his lips very slightly. 

“Are you lying to me Roman?” He asked with a raise of his eyebrow. “Didn’t do anything while you were away?” I shook my head, sitting down as I rubbed at my eyes. He narrowed his eyes. 

“A lie of omission is still a lie.” He could tell that I wasn’t telling him something. Couldn’t he. 

My heart sank. 

My watch beeped. 

“You’re going to be late to work.” Was all I said. Simple. Logan’s face twisted with anger, but it dissipated, or he hid it. I couldn’t tell. Or- maybe I wasn’t looking at him as closely as I did other people. Still couldn’t tell. 

“I’ll call in sick. But Roman- what the fuck aren’t you telling me!” He said, before his face sank, skin going slightly pale. “Are you ch-” I cut him off. 

“No! Why the hell would you think that!” I shouted, getting louder. 

The rest of the night went by in a blur. We tried to up each other, getting louder and louder. We probably kept some neighbors up around us. But it didn’t matter to us than. We were blinded with rage, eyes full of tears. It went like that for longer than I would have liked, but maybe if it did we would have worked things out. Maybe he would have stayed. But then it happened. 

“Fuck it. I’m leaving.” He said. Final. And that was it. He grabbed a few things, told me to pick up the rest, told me to mail it to his mother. “Goodbye.” Then he slammed the door. Gone. 

I didn’t go into work the next night. Didn’t go to class the next morning either. I just took a day. By myself. 

It sucked. I was alone. For the first time in god knows how long I was alone. 

I shouldn’t have realized shit. 

Shouldn’t have taken my chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, sorry for the short chapter, I'll have the next one out in a bit


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> V e r y angsty- get ready- I'm sorry ya'll.

(Virgil’s POV) 

I walked into the coffee shop like I did every night, 10:30 on the dot. The sweet aroma hit me first, than the warmth, so different from the November nighttime cold that bit at me in the atmosphere just a moment ago. But when I looked at the counter, Roman wasn’t there. He never missed a day. I couldn’t believe that. My gut twisted with worry and almost- disappointment? I was just here for coffee, right? I shouldn’t have felt like that. Yet still I turned, and walked out. 

Why did my night routine revolve around him? Of course I chalked it up to the warm atmosphere and nice coffee, not to mention the pleasant conversation. But I guessed I could have gotten that from anywhere else. Probably from that damn barista in there, but he wasn’t Roman. Roman was different- for some reason. He was himself. He was Roman and there was no other way of describing him, but- why was I thinking about him so much. How was he doing this? How? Why? Why was he doing this. I sat down on my bed, leaning back, my back hitting the all too firm broken spring mattress below me with a light thwack. 

I couldn’t do that whole- love thing again. I wouldn’t. I let myself zone out for a while as my mind went quiet for one glorious moment. Static. Amazing. But then I wondered if he was doing okay, and my heart picked up speed, hitting my ribs with a chest shattering speed. Than the anxiety creeped its way in. Not like it ever really left. Just waited, hidden in the shadows of my mind until there was a little something to make it go wild. Like how a shark would go after a faint smell of blood. God I wish I could hang like a- “Do Not Feed The Animals” sign in my brain. Not like It would fix anything. 

I didn’t realize that I had drifted to sleep until I woke up about an hour later. No dreams. No nightmares, and I figured maybe I should take the gamble of trying to sleep more because god that felt good. My awakening, however, was rather rude. I woke to the sound of clanking, like someone running up the metal rungs of the fire escape. Then I heard the clanking of the window, and I thought it was the wind,  _ hoped _ that it was the wind. But then I heard the all too familiar metallic clank of the lock turning. That’s how Dee would get in when I locked him out. Which I did much too much. I realized what was really happening immediately. It was him. Oh fuck it was him. Anxiety got the it’s cold hands around my throat, my chest. Pressure, immeasurable pressure. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t see. I couldn’t think. My vision was blurred with tears, my mind sharper than ever with intense panic and paranoia. 

I quickly dropped to the floor, listening in silence. I stood and sprinted to the back alley, down the stairs faster than I ever thought humanly possible. He wasn’t there. I couldn’t see where he was. He must have climbed in through the fire escape once again. Fuck.  _ Fuck,  _ he was here and I was so fucked. I was reliving all of it again and it was worse than any nightmare, because he was  _ back. _ I looked down at my phone. Who the hell could I call. I couldn’t tell anyone. I had to leave. Where could I go? I only really had one option.    
  


Roman. I knew I had to have his number somewhere, and I did. I pressed his contact, the familiar empty ring echoing out into the long forgotten alley that I was staying in. 

“Hello.” he said, not a question. Like he was trying to be smooth and failing. Now was not the time for smoothness. His voice was deeper, gritty, like he had been crying. I tried to talk but only choked out a quiet sob, though I didn’t know that I was close to crying, I sure as hell was now. 

  
  
  


_ “Roman- please- I- I need help” _


	6. Chapter 6

(Roman’s POV)

I wasn’t even a person anymore. That day I was just nothing. Except to him.

See, I didn't plan on picking up the phone, but my heart leapt into my throat when I saw the caller ID. It was him. He was calling. I tried to pick up the phone, sound casual, you know like I wasn’t having a gay panic, but my heart sank when I heard him speak. I sat up, already mentally calculating how long it would take me to get to him, to get him somewhere safe. 

“Virgil? Are you- what’s wrong?” I stuttered, my voice thick with worry. I heard a chattering clank from Virgil’s end of the phone. 

“ _ No- Ro- I, what’s your address, I need to talk to you- _ ” He whispered. His voice was wavering, about as stable as a leaf in the wind. I quickly told him my address and waited. My body shaking with anxiety. I ran a hand through my hair, knowing that I looked like pure, unfiltered, shit. I had  _ just been _ broken up with for god’s sake. But still, I would support a friend. And maybe- if- I had an opportunity:    
No.    
This was his time of need. He sounded so panicked and- I didn’t know what the hell I was thinking. I was no better than his ex was I. What a thought. No, a fact. 

A knock pulled me out of my self-pity party. A knock. Not a bell or a beep or a yell. Not an alarm. A knock. Huh. Weird. I raced over to the door, pulling open the handle. He had been crying. That was evident. He was panting and I couldn’t see a car or taxi dropping him off the last time I looked out the window, so that must mean 

He ran. He ran from for god knows how far. It must have really been bad huh. Yet still, I was thinking about myself. Good lord what the hell was I thinking. What the hell was I becoming? He fell into my arms after a moment, sending shocks through my body. I stood up a little, unsure of what to do as I blinked, but I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed him in my arms. My heart was beating so fast I couldn’t quite feel it anymore. I couldn’t feel my feet, and my arms were tingling, but I tensed my muscles, the feeling quickly fading away the more I got accustomed to the fact that he really was here. After a moment, Virgil straightened up, looking at me, eyes still glassy with tears. 

“I- sorry-” he whispered as he stared at me, my stomach still in turmoil, just from seeing his face. How the hell was he doing this? I shrugged, though my casual demeanor was breaking with empathy and worry for him. He looked around, still awkwardly standing in the doorway. I lead him into my apartment, letting him sit down on one of my old sofas that creaked too much, and I sat across from him, on the ground, trying not to make him too uncomfortable. I toyed with the ratted plush fabric of the carpet. He seemed terrified. Of me? 

“Hey, what’s wrong dude?” I asked, my eyes wide. I probably looked pitiful. That or like a deer in headlights. He just shook his head. “Dude you’ve been crying. You never call or text me except to send me memes. What’s up?” I added softly, chuckling afterward. Maybe I could make him laugh right? He broke a small smile, but it faded in almost an instant. 

“I- you know that ex that I told you about?” He began, and I nodded. “He’s- a lot worse than I said if I’m being honest and-” his voice wavered, cracking and breaking with each inflection. “A-and he- um- Dee that is.” he stopped, rubbing at his eyes as more tears fell. “He broke into my apartment.” He said, looking up from his lap up at me. My heart dropped into my gut. Your home was where you were supposed to feel safe, where you’re supposed to find rest and happiness, a good place to come after a day of work. I stood, opening my arms for a hug. 

“I’m so so sorry virgil-” I said, lost for words to say that would comfort him. What really could you say at a time like this?  
  
“ So- so I - I had to leave, didn’t have a chance If I stayed there, and you’re really the only sane person I know-” He stuttered out, his sobs devolving more into slurred hiccups. I just hugged him tightly, letting him stay in the hug as long as he needed 

“Hey- breathe,” I said, trying to get him to calm down, even slightly. 

“I can’t dude- it was fucking scary-”

“I’m not scary though- it’s okay- you’re okay. It’s okay.” 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is- a long one- buckle up!

(Roman’s POV)  
  
After a moment, he sat back down and filled me in on what had really happened with his ex. I could see why he was scared to stay there. Every time there was a lull in the conversation, I was expecting him to get up, go back home, leave like Logan did when he got bored with a conversation. I mean- I looked like shit and my heart was just as heavy as my legs, I’m sure I didn’t have the best or the most mentally stimulating conversation. But still, I couldn’t believe that he came to me, of all people. Maybe I really had made an impact on his life, though I couldn’t quite make myself believe it. But, despite my racing heart and panicked exterior, he stayed, seeming to study me almost. My eyes averted his gaze, not that I wanted to, I mean I wanted to study him too. 

“Do you want me to go back to your apartment with you?” I asked softly, maybe if I went with him he would feel safer. He stiffened, visibly. 

“I- I um- I don’t know about that- Ro-” He said, beginning to say something in that strong voice, but it wavered, dropping to a sadder tone. Softer. I guess it showed how scared he really was, without saying anything further. “He- wouldn’t really hesitate to- you know- hurt you as well,” Virgil said, shaking his head. I took a quick glance down at my wrist, checking the time. 

“Well you’ve been here 20 minutes, it probably took you about 10 to get here and it’ll take us 5 to get over there if we drive,” I explained, maintaining eye contact, and seeming almost professional. Guess talking like I was serving him coffee was second nature almost. He seemed slightly taken aback by it though, maybe I had ruined everything. Did I? I shook myself out of my thoughts. “So that should give us about 35-40 minutes, meaning he should have high tailed it out of there before the neighbors got concerned and called the cops,” I said, talking fast. He debated this mentally for a moment, I watched the wheels in his head turn. 

“I- I guess.” He said, so soft that I must have had supersonic hearing to be able to hear his whispers. 

“We should get going then,” I stated. He took a moment before standing, legs shaky. His gaze stayed glued to the floor while mine wandered, though, for some reason, it always floated back to him. God, he was perfect, but I didn’t stand a chance with him. He was way out of my league. He wouldn’t accept me for shit. Why the hell was I thinking like this again?

\----------------

In the simple flash of a few minutes and a stampede of feet and tires, he was there. Virgil showed me how, and I noted how long and tried to remember the address in case I needed to take him back if he ever needed a ride or a place to stay again. We stepped out of my old, janky car, the crisp air a sharp contrast to the stuffy humidity of my car with its stupid heater stuck on full blast all the time. Even in the summer. Yeah, that bad.   
  
Virgil looked over the building’s grey stone, it’s white speckles catching the dull sunlight. He froze. And he just stood there, looking to the alley beside the building, I could see the fire escape and could practically hear the clanking of him climbing it. Guess I didn’t realize how real the situation was until that moment. I could actually _see_ how it was affecting him, and that’s when the slight fear set in. Standing there, maybe I would get hurt. But when I looked over, saw Virgil, I knew it would be okay. Even If I did get hurt, It would be okay. Because it was for him, I would do it for him. 

He fumbled with his keys as he let himself and me into his apartment, obviously scared shitless. When I got in there though, there were no words to describe it. 

** _Carnage_ ** was probably the best that I could come up with. Complete and utter carnage. Seemed like a tornado blew through his house. Though, this was no accident, natural or not. Of course, still, I could tell that before the Dee-nato blew through his house, it was probably pretty minimalistic. Probably a nice, simple space. But then he hit. 

The cushions for the couch were flipped upside down on the ground, the thing fabric under them was ripped, exposing the shiny steel springs. The white fluff stuffing from the cushions was strewn everywhere, some of the carpet beneath our feet turning a foggy white due to the amount of stuffing ground into it. The trash can had been knocked over, trash and energy drink cans littering the floor. Old liquid probably split from the same cans on the ground ran from the bottom of the can to the floor. Hell, there were even holes in the walls. 

We looked over the room side by side, jaws agape and mouths dry. Virgil spoke up after a few minutes, however. 

“He- he-” Virgil stopped to swallow. “He trashed it.” He said, emotions twinging the statements. I nodded, still in shock that one person could wreck an apartment like that in an hour. What if more people had gotten in here? What if it wasn’t just him? That thought sent shivers down my spine. Virgil walked over to the ledge of the counter, picking up one of the only stools that was still intact, picking it up, sitting down and holding his head in his hands. I felt as if I touched him he would break. Porcelain. It seemed like I could watch him crumble. This was his house, but it looked like a warzone. I guess in a way it was. A war of home and the mind. Of the heart. I could see, maybe Virgil couldn’t, but it was a tactic. Keep him in fear until he couldn’t take it. But Virgil was strong right? He wouldn’t let it get to him. Right? Oh lord, I hope he could stay strong. He compressed in on himself as I knelt down next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder, gently, like a friend. I was a  _ friend _ . What the hell was wrong with me?

“Hey, virge. Look at me.” I whispered, and he did. “You can stay at my house tonight. You need a second. I got you!” I muttered, giving him a soft look. He looked up at me with glassy eyes. He shook his head. 

“N-no I need to pick up- I need-” I cut him off. 

“It can wait. Sleep. Food. Coffee.” I said, a small smile growing on my face. He smiled just a little, the corners of his mouth barely wrinkling upwards. He sprung forwards, hugging me tightly. He rested his head on my shoulder slightly, a smile evident on his face now. 

“Thank you,” he whispered. And I nodded. He was a friend. You support friends. 

That night was the most fun I’d ever had. Really. I ordered pizza and we sat on my living room floor and watched stupid horror movies with an approximate spending budget of 2 cents. It made him laugh, that’s all that matters. Well, that and my offhand comments. That made him  _ laugh _ . Sure I had nights like that with logan, but he always seemed on edge. We fought a lot. The past 2 months I don’t think I heard him laugh once. Maybe I should have seen the end coming. Virgil was different. He was relaxed around me. And he laughed. When I told jokes he laughed. Which is insane for me. I was used to getting a sharp exhale at best when I told a joke or said some sort of offhand comment. It was so damn weird. And somehow amazing at the same time. Weird- but I loved it. 

  
Maybe I did have a chance with this guy.   
  



	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is- really angsty- grab some tissues- I'm warning you

(Roman’s POV) 

I didn’t realize it until it was my shift at the shop, but we had fallen asleep on the ground and slept through almost all of the day. I wasn’t a ticking time bomb anymore. I wasn’t anywhere near my breaking point. Is this what being well-rested was like? But- as expected, my watch went off, waking me close to instantly. My brain was just hardwired for it, I guessed. Virgil was leaning against the couch, slumped over and snoring. 

‘ _ Kinda cute- _ ’ I thought to myself, looking away from him, looking around as I tried to force out the thought by pure willpower. ( it didn’t work ). I stood slowly, trying not to wake the man next to me, but yet I did. He inhaled sharply, shaking awake. He looked around, flinching visibly. I sat up, staring at him a bit. 

“Hey- hey- you- you stayed  _ here _ last night, remember?” I muttered, and he seemed to relax a little, his gaze softening as it landed on me. He quietly rubbed at his eyes, pulling his knees to his chest, running a hand through his sleep ridden hair. I flashed him a small, soft smile. 

“I- thank you. S-sorry-” He muttered with a slight chuckle. I shrugged, standing up slowly. 

“I gotta take a shower- and then I gotta go in for work at the shop,” I said, yawning much too loudly. He nodded, putting his arms around his legs. I cocked my head at him, breaking a small hopeful smile. “Wanna break your schedule and come in with me?” I asked, that same hopeful smile flashing at him. He chuckled a little, looking up at me with this - look in his eyes. Like I was a goddamn lifeboat and he just got off a sinking ship. It was a weird feeling. I’d never had anyone really need me. Usually, I was just more of a nuisance than anything. The feeling of being needed was not a feeling that I was used to, but I loved it. Supposed it was easy to get addicted to. Virgil nodded. 

“I mean, usually I’m a schedule man, but I’ll make an exception.” He said with a smile, laughter evident in the undertones of his voice. I gave him a thumbs-up and promptly got in the shower, maybe this shift wouldn’t be too boring. 

That night, or that shift, started out as the best shift I had ever worked. The end of the night - not so much. “ _ But Roman Why?”  _ You may find yourself asking. “ _ Everything seemed to be going so good! _ ``you may say. And you’d be right. Everything was going amazing. But- I couldn’t keep my damn mouth shut. But I took my chance. Thought it would be a good idea. Thought we hand a “bond”- right. I served him his coffee- and opened my stupid fucking mouth. 

“Hey, Virge?” I asked, and he put his coffee down, looking up at me with an inquisitive look. I took a deep breath and kept talking. I should have kept my mouth shut. But I didn’t. “So- I know you might- uh- not be ready for this- or might not feel the same way- but-” I tried to level my breathing, taking a break from speaking. Was I really doing this? “I’m-  _ ohgod _ \- Do you want to like, go out?” I asked, staring over at him. I watched all the color drain from his face, going pale and start to shake. He avoided my gaze at all costs, his breathing speeding up, seeming to start to panic. 

“Um- I don’t know-” He choked up, starting to fidget. I could see him start to slip away, and I started to panic as well. His lifeboat popped. I fucking popped and now he was left to drown. And instead of reaching out, comforting him, telling him I’d still be friends again, I only thought of myself. I watched a sad realization spread across his face, and his voice almost softened. He slowly slid off his jacket, setting it down. He never took it off. It was like a punch in the gut. He stood, backing away from the counter. “I-I should-” He started- but I  _ shouted. _ Of all fucking things- I  _ shouted to cut  _ _ him _ _ off. _

“Just give me a chance!” I cried, watching as he turned on his heel to leave my shop. 

“No can do Ro,” he said, a sad crack in his voice. “I’m sorry.” He said, turning on his heel- and leaving. His jacket was still on my stool. 

“Wait! You forgot your -” The bell rang and the door closed behind him. “Jacket-” I whispered to nobody but myself, and the whisper echoed out into the silence, mixing with the brassy sound of the bell. He was gone. And he left the one thing he would never be without. I took a fleeting glance down at my watch. 10:30. And he wasn’t coming in. I didn’t know if he ever would. I screwed it all up. Just like I did with Logan. I fucked it up. But little did I know, I fucked it up for him much worse than I thought. It was just like the beginning again.  _ Just a stranger. _ Unable to help. There was no laughter. Or conversation. No coffee. No Virgil most of all. Gone. All because of me.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( Might be slightly triggering, please stay safe ) 
> 
> Mentions of abuse and implied suicide.

(Virgil’s POV) 

I wasn’t ready for that. Of course I liked him. He was cute and kind, but- I didn’t realize he felt the same. It took me by surprise. Maybe it was a sign. Of course everything was a sign these days. Maybe the fact that I was looking for signs was one as well. Signs that Dee was right. Maybe I should have said Yes to Roman. After all he was gonna be the only one to love me. Right. He seemed so nice. He had even broken up with his boyfriend for me.  _ Me _ , of all people. And I turned him down. Point blank, no consideration. Roman had looked so so heartbroken. Was he about to cry? And it was all my fault. 100%. Now I couldn’t go back to my goddamn favorite place. And if I’m being honest, Roman was one of my favorite people to hang out with. He was my safe space. Guess I lost him too now huh. Suppose it wasn’t really my fault, but it still heavily affected me. I convinced myself that it was the universe’s way of telling me that nobody would care. He was the one person who actually cared, selflessly. Besides him, I was a lone. He was just a stranger at the beginning, and he was one now. And look at me now. And then too. Empty and alone. The thought of that was soul crushing. The shadows of anxiety and empty and sad that lounged in my mind all teamed up on me, making my chest feel heavy, my feet feel weightless, though I was walking, sidewalk still pounding beneath my feet. The fast beat of my heart turned the noise around me to static, chatter more than discernible noise or conversation. Someone could be yelling my name and I wouldn’t have known. Someone could have been offering to help me, to save me, but the fast beat of my heart and mind dulled it all away. My mind was gone. Off some deep dark place where I wasn’t. Or maybe the deep dark place  _ was _ here. 

I got back to my apartment, my heart dropping as I looked over the place once again. It was trashed. And Dee knew exactly what to break or trash or smash to hurt me more. What things I held close, and things I didn’t quite care for, were left untouched. The couch that him and I spent so many nights on, some of the only peaceful times we had at home were spent there, and It looked like a dog got to it. The cushions were shredded, faux leather spread across the floor in tatters. It was a damn warfield. Barstools I got when my mom passed away. I would sit on those when I was little, pretending I was an astronaut, or a pilot, and I couldn’t sit on them anymore. He snapped the legs off the bottom, wood shards shattered around like confetti. Bracelets that I had gotten from family and friends were broken, snapped, ripped or cut into. Everything he could possibly do in an hour, he did. So it was just me. In a trashed apartment. Without my jacket, without my friend, without my coffee. 

I crawled up onto my bed with shredded sheets and blankets, wrapping the loose fabric ribbons around my torso with a small sigh. What did I have if I didn’t have my home? What did I have if I didn’t have my constant safe space. Nothing. What I was, and what I had, nothing. Nothing at all. Nobody else to turn to, and Roman made things awkward. Family was all gone, or wanted nothing to do with the weird gay emo who sat in the corner of reunions. I thought Dee was the only one who would ever want me, but the cold air seeping in through the gashes in the fabric around me said otherwise. I thought Roman would be a friend, and of  _ course _ I wanted more, but I fucked it up. 

My gaze snapped up to my bedside table as I heard the all too familiar sound of my phone vibrating, close to silently. I stood, a little shaky on my feet as I rose to grab it. 

It was him.

It was Dee. 

I thought that I blocked his number. Thought I did all of these things so that none of this could ever happen, but it did. He was still able to call my phone, he was still able to get into my apartment. His light hazel eyes and brown hair pulsed at me along with his caller ID on my phone.  _ Dee  _ , with a little yellow heart next to it. I still hadn’t changed it. Guessed I needed to get on with that. With a shaky hand I picked up the phone, and accepted the call, scared of what would happen if I didn’t. 

“Hello?” I was barely able to squeak out, and I could have sworn my heart was racing so fast that you could hear it in my words. If I couldn’t feel my pulse in my chest, and hear the static coming from his end of the phone, I wouldn’t even have thought that I was alive. I would have thought I was in hell. Sure felt like it. Why the hell was the universe doing this? I had been punished again and again and  _ again _ , and yet it was still coming. Whatever god there was above, was a cruel one. Maybe I did deserve it though, all of it. Like Dee had said that night he left. Just like he said every time I felt pain from him. Every time I saw blood drop to the floor,  _ I deserved it. _ I was spiraling. It was just like the nightmares of him calling, coming back, the sight of his face made my muscles tense, ready for anything, strikes, punches blows. My body was ready, by tensing itself up. It was hell. He was putting me through hell. I heard a chuckle from his end of the phone. Why the fuck was he laughing at me at a time like this?

“Hello?” he chuckled, mocking my tone and the cracks in my voice. “Hey Virge.” he cooed, voice soft, sweet almost. It was a trap. It was always a trap. It sounded nice, and comforting until the sound of his voice gives you nightmares, and saying it leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. Who knew simple vibrations taking the form of a noise could bring back so many bad nights. So many memories. 

“ _ Don't call me that- _ ” I whispered, more of a hiss, but cleared my throat. “What do you want from me-  ** _Dee_ ** -” I said, spitting his name, the letters tasting like poison, foreign to my tongue. I hadn’t said his name in so long, though, I could have gone longer. 

“Just wanted to see how you were enjoying my bit of redecoration.” He said coldly, the only emotion in his voice being sarcasm. I looked around, the entire room suddenly seeming colder. He could probably hear my teeth chatter at this point. 

“Love it. Thanks.” I said, looking down at the now foggy grey carpet.

“Yeah? Good.” he said, and I could tell that he was smiling, could tell that he was enjoying every moment of the torture. He sighed, trying to sound casual when he spoke again. “Anyway. See you soon.” He said. The words echoed in my mind, even after the dial tone rang, I still held the phone loosely in my hand. My chest caved in on itself and I let the phone drop to the floor, not caring about cracks, it wouldn’t matter anyway. 

See you soon.    
  
_ See you soon.  _

When the hell would this fucking torture be over? I smacked down on my bed, looking away from the ground. Would I really see him soon? Was he really going to fucking come back? To this house? To me? Would he come when I was in public? When I was sleeping? Would I ever really be able to sleep again? Would I just see his face? In dreams? In real life? What the hell?  
  
I heard my phone buzz again. I didn’t bother checking it. I had enough signs. Enough paranoia. I had enough looking over my shoulder. I was done. No more rejection. No more asking. No more fear, no more sleepless nights, no more Dee, no more coffee, no more Roman, No more virgil. None of this.   
Enough signs.   
Done.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by my best friend Alex- He's not on here sadly enough but follow him on tumblr! 
> 
> ( @sad-emo-pineapple ) 
> 
> I think he did an amazing job, all credit to him, and enjoy the sudden jump in writing quality!   
(I had him do this chapter cuz I didn't think my tiny little soul could handle it-)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter may be extremely triggering to some, it has a first hand view of suicide and the thoughts, and also the person's POV during the attempt. If any of this makes you uncomfortable, please leave the fic or skip the chapter, your mental health is much more important than reading, just know that virgil did attempt if you go to the next page. Please stay safe you guys. I have the 24/7 helpline at the bottom of the chapter if it is needed. Thank you.

(Virgil’s POV)

I looked down at my hands, tears clouding my, already very, unfocused and fuzzy vision. I was shaking, my throat tightening as I held onto the sobs that were mere seconds away from escaping my weak grasp. I slammed my eyes shut, moving my hands to my knotted, unwashed hair. I didn't want to do this bullshit anymore. A sob ripped past my throat, filling the empty bedroom. I couldn't take this  _ bullshit _ any longer. _ _

_ The torture, _

my heart was speeding up , _ _

_ the mental and physical pain, _

his kind face and smile, the disappointment in his eyes, 

_ the panic attacks, _ it felt like claws tearing down my ribs, grabbing my lungs , squeezing .

_ the constant paranoia , _

each breath felt like a bullet through my chest. 

_ and heart wrenching, sleep destroying 3am breakdowns _ . 

I scooted farther onto my bed, pulling my knees to my chest as my mind continued its brutal attack on me. It would have been flat out pathetic to try and stop the, almost chant like, sequences of suicidal , depression fueled thoughts. Tiny voices, starting soft, sweet, sugar coated and gentle, but it didn't last long, it never did. Screams, aggressive, angry yells, it was like someone pulled the wrong stick out of a damn, and the flood gates opened, tearing down the wall, destroying it instantly. 

It was quite obvious now, no one needed me. Dee, clearly, only thought i existed to be tortured. I demolished me and romans relationship. I had little family left to speak to, It could all be over and _no one _would care. It wouldn't be that hard either, I knew that, I always had. This wouldn't be my first attempt, though various parts of me prayed it would be my last. 

“ No more,” I smiled sadly, letting the soft, broken up words linger in the air. Though, as I sat, my teary eyed gaze settled on the dark wall in front of me, a small train of realizations hit me, a spear in my heart. 

There won't be anymore roman, no weird, late night conversations with him in the cafe, the laughter, the smiles, the goodbyes, gone. 

I lost it all. 

I blinked away tears as I slowly stood up, not bothering to step over the mess that layered my carpeted floor. I stood there, in the middle of my bedroom, the bedroom i shared with Dee for so long, the bedroom where i held way too many terrible memories, where i had seen him break for the first time, where i got the call that my mom had passed away. All in this god forsaken, torn apart, hell hole. 

And I guess that this was going to be one of the memories to add to the list. The finial one. 

I pressed my lips together, letting out a slowed down, wavering breath. I let my brain repeat back the thousands of reasons why this way a good idea as I shoved my hands into my pant’s pockets. I turned on my heels, silently going into the bathroom. 

As I entered the small tile floored room, I was surprised to find that it was almost untouched, aside from somethings that had been thrown to the side, onto the floor.

My best bet was he didnt have enough time to thoroughly rip apart the bathroom, and so he did the bare minimum which, for me, was good. I glanced behind me, heart skipping a beat. No one was there, and there was a side , deep inside my brain that, almost wished there had been a person, anyone. At that point all I wanted was to see his smile one last time. The little chuckles and excited waves he’d give me when i enter the cafe. 

Of course, he wasn't going to there, no one ever was. And that was what really, out of everything that had been said and done, that was what hit hard. No one was there to talk to, to hug, to say sorry to. 

And so, with my mind set on my final plan, I stepped inside the bathroom, tugging open the bottom cabinet.    
I really had not known at the time, if I would ever use the blades I hid from dee, since I thought my life was all sunshine and rainbows. I found it, almost humorous, how wrong I was about that. They were unused baldes, which meant they’d be sharp as all hell. Good, really good for what I was about to attempt. 

I looked down at the razor that was now settled in my palm, sighing quietly. I stood, gently closing my fingers around the blade. 

As I walked back to my bedroom, my chattering mind finally calmed though it only felt like a couple seconds before a heart stopping thought hit me.  _ Who was going to find me-  _ It was panic inducing, that's for sure. If dee found me, only the heavens above know what would happen. If-

Oh god. 

I swallowed hard, a lump forming in my throat.  _ Roman.  _ If he found me, if he was the one to find out I had done this, oh no. I shook my head, so hard I had to stop walking altogether. He wouldn't, of course he wouldn't. No one would come to check on me for days, hopefully. Though, it didn't really matter too much to me, i would finally be gone from this hell , and that's all that really mattered to me. 

I opened my door slowly, gently closing it behind me. The room was pitch black, and the only light was the small moon beam that peaked between my blackout curtains. I closed my eyes for a moment, listening to my heart beat, which once again, was gaining speed at an alarming rate. 

I couldn't wait , could not procrastinate any longer. It was about fucking time i ended it all. 

I walked over to my bedside table, grabbing my phone off of it. I checked the time, _ 1:27  _ , then let my gaze fixate on the small, white box in the middle of the screen. 

_ Missed call 2 _

I stopped, staring at the screen for a second. 

_ From roman _

I couldn't help but laugh. I knew he was calling to yell at me, or tell me that i was terrible and worthless, just like every other person I had rejected. So I shrugged it off, muttering a monotone ‘ oh well ‘ as I sunk down to the floor, letting my phone drop beside me. 

I opened my hand, taking the cold, clean blade between my fingers. 

This was it. 

_ No more suffering. _

_ No more pain.  _

_ No more torture.  _

I rolled up my sleeves, pressing the razor to my skin. 

_ No more roman _ .

I drew it across the first time, a smile tugging at my lips as the sharp pain crawled up my arm.

_ No more dee.  _

Tears and blood were falling. 

_ No more laughs.  _

I swallowed my fear, digging the metal into my skin, sliding fast, rough.

_ No more asking. _

I looked down, watching the crimson droplets hit the old, greyed carpet. 

_ No more Virgil. _

I kept doing the same aggressive, fast motion, till my arms numb and my wrists throbbed. 

_ No more. _

My world started to fade after a moment, black and grey dots dancing in my vision. 

And as I glanced down at my phone, I watched as another box appeared on the softly glowing screen. 

  
_ Missed call : from roman _ .    


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If any of you are feeling like this, know that there is help out there. Confidential, free help for you guys. Know that everyone deserves a happy ending, and even this story has one.
> 
> Here's the helpline for the US and Canada if any of you need it : 1-800-273-8255
> 
> Stay safe and keep fighting, you lovely people!


	11. Chapter 11

(Roman’s POV) 

I was just calling to give his jacket back. That’s all I aimed to do. Was going to tell him that I was at his door and if he wanted to talk, I’d stay there. If he said “cool” or something else, I would leave, and tell him that the jacket was on the doorknob. 

And I’m not ashamed to admit it. I was drunk when I called for the first time. I was buzzed, the world muddying around me as I stumbled to his apartment. My steps were as slurred as my words would be, the floor spun around me, my universe seeming to move with the earth. But, he didn’t pick up. The first time, or the second. When I texted him, he didn’t respond. So I walked there, trying to remember the walk and his address. Trying to remember the drive there, but all I saw in my mind was his face. I saw his eyes, shimmering with my reflection. I remembered my soft eyes looking back into him. Eventually I got there, and stared at the door. 

I knew I shouldn’t have been doing this. I knew he would get angry. I knew that something huge would happen. My gut felt empty. Something felt wrong. Something felt off, like if you got back to your house after a vacation and everything was moved 3 inches to the left and you still felt like you were in that other time zone. That’s how I felt, staring at his door. I knew that something was wrong. Roman spidey senses, I guessed. I raised my arm and knocked, strong and loud, 5 times. No answer, I knocked once more, starting to speak, though the words that same out of my mouth slurred, seeming to tumble out of my mouth. 

“V- Virgil? I have your jackett-” I said, the words sounding like a pathetic whine. I was met with nothing. No noise. So I spoke again. “I know that you want nothing to do with me. I know that I made things awkward and it’s all my fault- and I have no chance of being your friend again- I just want to return your jacket. That’s all. I promise.” the last syllable of my word dragging out. And then I was met with a hollow silence. Just the metallic ringing sounds of the pipes above me. The 3-inches-to-the-left feeling intensified, my gut twisting, worse. Was he not home? Where else would he be? I should have been there sooner. I shouldn’t have asked. Maybe I shouldn’t have even existed in the first place. Why was I standing there. Why was I pulling a bobby pin from my wallet? Why was I picking his lock? Too late. The door slowly opened, the door creaking in protest before me. I stepped in. There was no noise. Wasn’t even the hum of the air conditioner, where it probably should have been due to the amount of heat in the apartment. I could hear my heartbeat in the space around me, seeming to envelop everything around me. The room, my body, even my feet were pulsing along with it.   
My steps echoed around me, the clack of the heel on my shoe seeming to hit the back of my ear. My heartbeat in my throat, affecting my breathing. Everything around me was a mess. Some things were loosely picked up, lazily sweeped. He seemed to have given up on cleaning. All the doors in the house were closed, some even locked, except one. My gut instinct was to walk towards it, and that’s when I heard it.   
The rattle. 

Laboured breathing like I had never heard before. It sounded like a rattlesnake caught in a throat, making my hands shake, my heart beat along with their vibration, which was much too fast. I stumbled, slurring quietly again.

“Vv-virgil?” I called out, the rattle getting slightly more faded by the minute. Softer, fading. With every step to his room, everything around me got louder. My heart, my feet, the rattle, my own breathing. 

When I was right in front of the door, a sharp smell hit my nose. It was metallic, smelt like- blood? Was that blood?! I pushed the door open slowly with my shoulder, and my heart shattered at the sight, a billion pieces of it falling to the ground. I’m sure by now you know what I saw. I couldn’t help it when a sharp yelp tore from my throat in a way of shock? Fear? Disbelief? Sadness? Adrenaline was coursing through my veins, and I knew I had to do something, and fast.

With fumbling hands I pulled out my phone, and dialed 911. Or- 811 at first, because of how shaky I was. I tried to use what little fabric was left of his blankets and bedsheets to stop the bleeding. He was still breathing, but my best efforts just made me turn into a shocked, breathless, crying, sweaty, bloody mess.

My breath seemed to be sucked from my lungs. I couldn’t breathe, or think even really. My brain was too blurred with liquor and fear. There really was only one thought still floating in the sea of worry, fear, and inebriation that was my mind.   
Why? Why was he doing this? Why did he try doing this? 

Then it hit me, all at once, like getting hit by a bus. The guilt. In my mind, it was my fault. It couldn’t have been coincidence that he tried to leave it all behind right after I open my stupid mouth. Me confessing was what got him here, and what made his world crumble around him. I knew then that what that sad realization on his face when we were in the shop was. What I had said, was what helped him make that final decision. But I was going to be the one to make sure that it wasn’t his final one. My decision, my time, my hands, his life. I was the one who caused this, and I was gonna be the one to fix it. I would help it. I would.   
I would give him that chance.   
He deserved it more than I did.


	12. Chapter 12

(Virgil’s POV)

Of course it had to be him. Of course  _ he _ was the one to find me. The one person that I thought I could count on not finding me, saving me, bringing me back to this god forsaken world, was the one who sent me over the edge, who found me. 

And still, I woke up, pain shooting up and down my arms, but I still woke up. Sounds around me drilled holes into my mind, searing headache, prickling pain dancing up and down my arms, holding me in place and telling me that yup, I was still alive, and that I had to deal with it all still. Deal with breathing, with heartbreak, with rejection, with eating, and drinking, and coffee, and people. I opened my eyes, the little light there was in the room seeming blinding to me. I took a glance around the room. Someone had found me. I was in the hospital. Great. But when I looked to the side, Roman was there. His head was tilted at an angle that it wouldn’t have been if he was well awake, but the thing that really got me, was that he had my jacket wrapped around his chest. My old ass jacket, that I was almost inseparable from, wrapped around him like a childhood baby blanket. He had saved me.  _ He saved me. _ It took a few minutes to set in. 

Than the tears fell. Like a faucet. The broken damn all over again. Because someone  _ cared.  _ He cared, of all the people in the world, Roman was the one who cared for me, who saved me. He came to check on me when anyone else would have found me to try and tell me some terrible news, but he was completely selfless. He came to check on me, probably return my things, not make things worse. A soft sob tore from my throat, nothing could stop the next sobs, racking my body. I shook harder. Roman jolted awake when he heard my sobs. His gaze immediately turned to pure panic. 

“Virge- I- Virgil do you want me to leave? Or do you need a nurse-” he stuttered, starting to stand. He closed to jumped when he realized that my jacket was still loosely hung around his shoulders. He took it off like it was radioactive, placing it on my bed gently. “God that was probably weird to wake up to, do you uh-” He said, seeming almost tearful. I shook my head, almost frantically. 

“Please stay.” I whispered, sounding pitiful, at least to myself. Roman nodded, sitting back down slowly. I cleared my throat, shifting due to the amount of pain that I was in. His eyebrows creased in worry.

“Do you need something?” He said, wringing his hands, he must have been nervous. I shook my head, trying to cough a little to attempt and clear the almost permanent lump in my throat.

“I’m okay.” I said, voice horse and rough. Every spot on my body ached, and I just wanted to sleep or scream- or- something. Not a feeling I could quite put words to. I looked up at him, on the verge of more tears. “When did you?” My gaze dropped to the floor, the waves of remorse and guilt, an intense amount, flooding back to me. “I’m sorry-” I whispered, my voice sounding like it was waxed with sandpaper. His face dropped, hugging himself slightly.

“I came to give your jacket back. You didn’t pick up my calls, or my texts. You didn’t come to the door, I called your name, and there was no answer.” He swallowed, averting my gaze. He looked guilty. “I got wasted when I got off my shift. When I got to your door- and you didn’t pick up- I- picked your lock.” he said, voice breaking. And so, he crumbled, holding his head in his hands. “ _ I’m so sorry- _ ” he sobbed out, looking away from the floor up at me. “But- why-” he swallowed. “Why virge?” He asked, he seemed so hurt. So.  _ So _ hurt. I did that. My fault. 

I tried to move, to get up and try and hug him, or wipe away his tears, but every move send numbing pain through me. I couldn’t handle to stand. Instead, I just kind of held out my hands, looking like a monkey who wanted some sort of fruit. He shook his head.

“That’s gonna hurt- and you don’t  _ really _ want anything to do with me- right?” He said, again wringing his hands together, leaving red blotches left on his pale hands. I swallowed. I rejected him, so I guess I deserved an answer like that. A few more tears fell down my face. Couldn’t stop the floodgates, god- I was weak.

“Roman-” I began, my voice getting clearer the more I spoke, but it was still layered with pain and sadness. I really had hurt him bad. “I really do want something- to do with you.” My voice dropped in volume quite a lot. “ _ Everything really. _ ” I whispered, looking over him. Roman looked up at me, softening a lot. A small smile tugged at my face. “Listen. I want to be your friend and I’m- still getting over Dee and all but-” I evolved into a full smile. “I’ll- think about what you said. O-or asked.” Roman smiled very softly, looking up at me.

“You shouldn’t have to say that just because I found you.” his voice broke a little. “And I mean- it was probably my fault in the first place.” he said, beginning to go on, but I stopped him, shaking my head. 

“No- don’t say that shit-” I muttered, looking away from him to cover the fact that I was crying. I wiped away some tears with a gentle hand. He looked like he felt bad for me, but he shouldn’t have. My choice, my life. He shouldn’t have even second guessed it. He shrugged. 

“I mean, at least I had- some sort of factor in it.” He said with a tiny sad smile. I shook my head, trying to reach out. To comfort him- or- or- slap him, I wasn’t sure. 

“You don’t know that. I- I thought I ruined it and-” my words broke away from me, unable to speak. I couldn’t find the right words to fall into place. How do you put words to such a complicated feeling? Nothing and everything at the same time. Intense pain, dulling numbness. Everything. And nothing, floating in the air and plunging into cold dark water simultaneously. I chose the five words that would begin to grasp my struggle. “I was tired of fighting.” I said simply. He nodded. Did he understand. He couldn’t have really understood. Right?   
  


“Trust me Virgil.” He began, starting with that serious tone, like he was still serving me coffee, like he was obligated to be professional, but it broke away when more of his tears flowed from his eyes. “I’ve- I don’t know. I’m not saying that I’ve battled your battles but,” His gaze fell to the floor, eyes filling and flooding of tears. “I know how it feels to fight. “ He said with a simple shrug. “It sucks.” He added, trying to laugh to decrease the tension. I watched him. Someone understood. Someone didn’t think that I was insane and the feeling was amazing. Someone had battled with their mind and- hadn’t lost? It was good to see, good to feel. I nodded a little.

“I’m sorry-” I said. My words probably brought back memories, made him hurt. I could see it. Could tell. 

_ My fault.  _

_   
_ _ My fault. _

  
  


Roman shrugged a little. His gaze wandered upwards, a tactic I knew all too well, made you stop crying, or at least made it easier to try and hide the fact that you were. 

“Don’t be. My trauma shouldn’t be your problem.” he said, voice soft. He was trying to cover emotion, easy to see. Guess he didn’t want to make me feel worse, but the fact that he was trying to hide it made my heart seem to slow and ache, like it wanted to stop. 

“I- still. I shouldn’t have even-” I began, my stomach twisting. Everything and nothing. “Shouldn’t have even tried. 

“It’s not your fault. Your depression is not your entire entity. It is not part of your being. No matter what it tells you.” he stopped, looking up at me softly. He had tears in his eyes. “Recovery is possible.” he said. I opened my mouth to interject, but he stopped me. “I know it feels like you’re dependent. Like you’d be losing a part of you- You think you’d feel empty right?” He said. In a way, he was right. I was scared that I might lose who I was. Negativity was almost a part of my personality at this point, so I nodded. “But you don’t. It goes away slowly. You don’t even realize it’s gone.” he said with a shrug. “And you have such a huge chance to do greatness in this world.  _ Such _ a huge chance.” he said, looking away. 

And that was such a stupid thing to say. 

Why would something like that make me- 

Well it kind of- 

Made me want to kiss him. 

  
Oh No.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So sorry for dying for a bit! I got caught up with school stuff, but I mean, now I got nothing but time! I'll finish this fic in the next week!

(Virgil's POV)  
  
  
It had been a few nights since I headed to the shop, because I was stuck in that damn bed. You would think that’d be nice, right? But I just did a lot of thinking. A lot, of thinking. About me, about the shop, about life, about Roman. I thought about- why I rejected him. Suppose it was my state of mind. I thought that maybe being with him, saying yes to him was another thing that I couldn’t control about myself, or my life. But- I guess, doing what- I did- or tried to do anyway, made me realize that I could handle my life. I could hold it in my hands, and I could live it or take it. It was all my choice. I didn’t want to go anymore. I don’t know what I was missing, besides chemicals, but I was missing my friend. I was missing Roman. If there was one person who could help me get my shit together, it would be Roman. I was just lacking Roman.

But I was stuck in that bed. Of course I could call, or text, but it wouldn’t be the same. Maybe if I could say something, and that would be me taking control of my life. If I told him, maybe he would say yes. I wanted what he wanted. Wanted him, Roman. Wanted his smiles, his waves, wanted to be a part of his life. I did. I really did. Though i was terrified he would say no because of what I did. Did he blame himself? He probably - oh no. what if he did the same? What if he realized that he could do so much better than me. What if he had already gone back to Logan. What if-  
I needed to breathe. He wouldn’t- right?

That day, I was able to be discharged. Was able to be on my own again- and you bet your ass I was going to the shop that night, and I was going to say something. Going to apologize, going to tell him. I had to do something. Going to apologize, going to straight up tell him. I had to do something. I could tell how guilty he looked, how guilty he probably felt. He probably connected the two dots though they were on two completely different planets. If anything, he was probably the thing that made me hesitate. I knew that it was probably eating at him, and I had to say something.

The day went slow, painfully slow. I made a script in my mind, painstakingly picking out each word, and yet it still tore at the back of my mind, making my chest feel heavy, weight added onto it, the more I thought about it. It felt like my ribs could break under the weight of anxiety and fear. Terrible fear that made me shake. Made me want to run and scream, but I couldn’t, he would be at home right now. Was he even thinking about me? God what was this man doing to me? Each tick of the clock was a jolt of adrenaline, meaning it was one second closer, one minute closer, one hour, two hours until I saw him- and than- it was there. 10 : 15. I had to get going.

My feet carried me faster than I ever thought they could, and I could have believed them if somebody told me that I was floating. I wouldn’t have given it a second thought or glance. Adrenaline made my breath speed up, made my heart and feet race, seemingly in spite of each other, a competition almost. The door rang out as I stepped in. He waved at me and my heart fluttered. I waved. Was I acting weird? Oh god, maybe I was walking different, looking around weirdly, did my eyes look different? Would he think I was high or something? He gave me another wave and the words crawled into my throat, and I didn’t think I could refrain from holding them much longer, they needed to get out- oh no.

“Hey V-” He began, looking almost forlorn, but the words were faster than I was. They found an exit and I cut him off, shouting.

“I love you.” I said, simple and true. Roman’s face dropped from it’s usual cheery demeanor, to a mix of disbelief and sadness. He shook his head slowly, hands starting to visibly shake.

“Virge are you drunk do you- do you need to sit down.” He asked, clearly shaken, and I mean, how could he not be. I rejected him when he didn’t even ask the damn question directly, and then almost instantly made the worst decision of my life. But I hoped this would be a better decision. I shook my head, practically leaping to hug him, holding onto him tightly. Roman’s hands stayed up in the air, usure of where to place them or what to do for a while. He wasn’t sure what to say or do. Obviously. Neither was I, but this sure as hell felt right. Being with him felt right in my mind, and holding him in my arms felt right.

“I’m sorry Roman-” i sped, holding him closer. He started to stay something, but i cut him off, the words that I had planned to say pouring out in a terrified, adrinaline fuled mess. “I know that I said no. I know that I fucked up, and I know you blame yourself, but I fucking love you-” I said, my words devolving into mangled sobs.

“Virgil, you don’t have to say- all this because you felt bad-” He said, words obviously sugarcoated. I couldn’t handle it anymore, couldn’t keep my hands- or, my mouth to myself. Anger or anxiety bubbled up in my chest. My hands reached up to the side of his face, and though I’m not proud of this moment, I stood on my tippy toes-  
And I kissed him,

I could have sworn my heart stopped. I was so scared, but every wave of anxiety and fear fleeted away, drifting away when he slid his arms around my neck, leaning into the kiss that I began. I couldn’t think straight. I thought I was in a dream. Sure as hell felt like it. I grabbed at the back of Roman’s shirt, hungry for more of him. I didn’t want to be breathing my own air anymore, wanted to breathe him, wanted to be close to him, could i possibly get closer?  
I took my chance.  
And it worked. It fucking worked.  
I got the boy, and I was going to turn my life around for this man.


End file.
